


a taste of you

by LucreziaDormentaire



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Lance (Voltron), Come Swallowing, Creampie, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Feeding Kink, Fluff and Smut, In short Shiro gets off watching Lance eat, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mild Feederism, NUFF SAID, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Unhealthy Use of Foods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 00:11:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16650565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucreziaDormentaire/pseuds/LucreziaDormentaire
Summary: Shiro has a strict diet, Lance likes to eat, Shiro likes to watch Lance eats.





	a taste of you

**Author's Note:**

> summary is hard and this is a completely self-indulgence porn, i'm sorry.  
> i used pre-kerberos shiro here (black hair, no prosthtic arm) hope no one minds.

“So apparently our midnight escapade at McDonald’s cost me an inch.”

Lance turns around slightly from where he’s standing in front of the counters, boiling a potful of spaghetti while humming along to his favorite music for cooking – an endless loop of Spice Girls’ Wannabe.  Shiro is standing in the middle of their kitchen, shirtless, with a measuring tape around his waist. He keeps on pulling and adjusting the end of the tape like he couldn’t believe it. Lance eyes him critically, up and down, and maybe his stare lingers a bit longer around the area of his navel, but who could have blamed him, right? Shiro is hot, and always physically pleasing to look at.

“Come on babe, it’s not _that_ bad.” Lance laughs. “I couldn’t even tell the difference!” He says, and it’s true. Shiro still looks like an absolute beefcake, – with the hard planes of his chest and his protruding abs – still looks like someone straight out of porn.

“But,” Shiro whines, dropping the tape, trying to hide his disappointment. “I have a goal.”

“Just think of it as your cheat day.” Lance puts down his fork and pushes aside his apron, stepping closer to him.

“My cheat day isn’t for another week.”

Crestfallen, Lance runs his hands down Shiro’s biceps, feeling the muscles ripple underneath his touch. He knows the curve and nooks of Shiro’s body as if it were an extension of his own. “Baby, I’m sorry. I – I know about your regimen but I still…”

Shiro shakes his head, leaning in to place a kiss on Lance’s cheek. “It’s my fault too. I fell too easily for your charm… and nuggets. I’m just going to work harder on the next few days.”

“Okay. Yeah. You want me to make you the casein shake?” Lance says, nuzzling into his lover’s touch.

“Yea, you go do that. And finish your cooking. It already smells really good.” Says Shiro, momentarily distracted by the mouth-watering scent wafting from the stove. 

“Mhmm. I’m making a creamy crab and tomato sauce. You bought me a really good heavy cream, daddy, it smells so fucking good.” Lance drawls, one lone finger drags along Shiro’s chest teasingly, loving the way Shiro’s breath stutters at the name. “You always bought me the best of stuff. I want to make it up to you. How about you go get yourself ready and then I’ll take good care of you?”

So Shiro abides without a word, going back to their shared bedroom, leaving Lance to finish his cooking. Lance has always loved to cook; he can even proudly say that he’s the best cook in his family, and boy does he have a _big_ family. They first met when Shiro was still a newcomer model – Lance is an assistant photographer who is too chatty and excitable for his own good, and Shiro would be lying if he says he doesn’t find it endearing. It has been five years since then; and while it was hard telling someone so enthusiastic about cooking that your extremely strict diet would make him incapable of indulging in Lance’s passion, it doesn’t stop the two of them from supporting each other. It begins innocently enough, actually. Lance loves to eat as much as he loves to cook, so Shiro would always ask him to describe everything he had eaten that Shiro couldn’t. Seeing Lance happy and enjoying himself means the world to him. Soon he discovered that he liked watching Lance eat, liked having a taste of what Lance had eaten without the added guilt. It’s a win-win situation for the two of them.

And Lance – bless him, really – is that type of guy who doesn’t put on weight no matter how much he eats. He could devour an entire truck of ice cream and still be lean and light enough for Shiro to bench-press. It was a surprise, actually, but one Shiro welcomed with open arms.

(Still, in the deepest part of his mind he has always wanted to see Lance grow rounder and softer around the edges under his care. Who can blame him?)

 

***

 

When Lance emerges into the bedroom, Shiro is laying flat on his back, head propped on a pillow and eyes focused at the tablet in his hands. He already has his shirt back on, to Lance’s dismay, and looks comfortable in his low-hanging sweatpants. Lance bounces up to the bed like he isn’t holding a steaming bowl of pasta enough to feed a small family in it. Shiro must’ve heard him coming because he visibly brightens, placing his gadget down on the nightstand.

“Lance, it smells wonderful.” Shiro groans, propping himself up on his elbows but Lance pushes him back with a hand to his chest, guiding him back down as he climbs the bed to straddle his boyfriend.

“Yeah? You can tell?” Lance says cheekily, his thighs on either side of Shiro’s waist, looking down at him.

“Always.” Shiro reaches his hands out, rubbing up and down Lance’s sides underneath his shirt. “So tell me what you made today, baby boy.”

“Mmm, so, remember the really expensive cream you bought? I cooked them with the fresh crab meat and citron vodka. Made a sauce out of it.” Lance begins, licking his own lips. “It was surprisingly easy. But I gotta admit the spaghetti is a little overcooked. You were distracting.”

Shiro’s laughter echoes all over the room, sending a spark of warmth throughout Lance’s entire body. “Oh, so it’s my fault?”

Lance rolls his eyes. “Yes. Obviously. You’re on the cover of every Fitness magazine I came across. You cannot not be distracting.” The fork clinks against the bowl and Lance is suddenly aware of the task in hand. “Anyway. Let’s dig in!”

Shiro watches with wide eyes as Lance took the first bite. It’s good. It’s _really_ good. The pasta is overcooked but not too soft, the sauce still warm. The crab meat melts against his tongue, and the crusty taste of breadcrumbs sends his taste buds on a journey. He moans around his fork, feeling Shiro’s eyes zeroing on him, his grips tightening.

“Oh my God, Daddy,” Lance groans, smacking his lips. “It’s sooo good. The sauce is so rich. I’m a brilliant cook.”

“That you are, baby.” Shiro grunts, could only watch as Lance part his soft, pink lips, going for another bite. “You’re the best.”

Lance preens under the compliment, Shiro can see from the way his cheeks redden. It’s a very strange sensation, watching Lance chew a mouthful of pasta loudly. Strange and arousing. The room is almost frighteningly quiet, save for the pleased noises Lance is making every time he shoveled in bits of spaghetti into his mouth. Shiro himself makes almost no perceptible sounds. Lance can’t even hear him breathing, but he knows how Shiro loves how Lance is so _into it_. He places his palms on Lance’s back, almost as if he’s encouraging him. Shiro bites the inside of his cheek when Lance tips his head up, cleaning his lips with his tongue.

“It could use more tomato though,” Lance says, breaking the silence. “And maybe… shrimp. Yeah. You like shrimp don’t you, daddy?”

“Uh-huh, shrimp is good.” Shiro is too distracted by the movement of Lance’s lips to pay attention. He feels around Lance’s stomach, wanting nothing more but to fill his baby up. He wants to see Lance’s slight pudgy tummy; wants to kiss where he’s the softest; to spoil him rotten with all his favorite foods. It drives him crazy how much he wants to grope every part of him. The thought is fresh on his mind. If he closes his eyes, he could bring out the details of Lance’s voice, his face, his body, the way he moves.

Lance finishes his food rather fast, even though he’s in no hurry. He likes putting a show on Shiro that he knows the bigger man would appreciate. He lets out a quiet burp when he’s done, blushing as he did. Shiro thinks it’s the cutest thing ever.

Shiro pushes himself up then, until they are finally eye to eye. “Let me have a taste?” It’s no

Lance merely nods before he lunges forward, capturing Shiro’s lips in a bruising kiss. They kissed lightly at first, then more urgently, Shiro’s tongue in his mouth; prodding; tasting him. It should be gross, but Shiro’s tongue flutters against his, and his big hands are rooted deep in his hair that he doesn’t care much. Not when Shiro always makes every kiss feels like their first time.

Shiro pulls back, enough to draw breath, and sighs against Lance’s bruised lips, his breath warm. Lance tastes heavenly. Like pure ecstasy. “Too much garlic,” he comments, dragging his tongue lazily across Lance’s parted lips.

“Said someone who drinks Kale shake on a daily basis,” Lance quips back, his words a mere whisper between the two of them.

In the quiet serenity, Shiro rubs his palm all over Lance’s slightly expanded stomach, feeling the telltale of muscles against his skin. “Still have room for dessert?”

Lance gasps and places one hand across his chest in mock insult. “I _always_ have room for dessert!” and then he grins, bright and playful, pushing himself up with his hands on Shiro’s chest. “I’ll go get it.”

And so Lance tiptoes down the bed, momentarily struck by the blissful, dreamy look Shiro is throwing at his direction – his feature soft and cheeks rosy. He feels positively warm as he looks up at his lover and smiles, feeling more than happy to help Shiro unwind; to keep him contented. When Shiro first proposed the whole… ordeal, Lance might have been a little self-conscious and hesitant but this – with Shiro looking at him like he’s his world, it gives him a boost.

Ducking down and pulling out the white container at the far end of the refrigerator, Lance most definitely radiates eagerness. He’s been wanting to save this thing for a special moment, but every minute he spends with Shiro has always had a special place in his heart. Placing the pie down on a plate, he can’t wait to finally eat it. Can’t wait to share the pleasure with Shiro.

There’s an adorable hop in his walk as he makes his way down to the bedroom, teasing Shiro with hiding the dessert behind his back.

“Guess with me.” Lance all but giggles, hips swaying slightly.

Shiro blinks. “Licorice pudding?”

“What – _no_. That was one time. I’m not eating that thing again!”

“But…” Shiro blinks again, disappointment visible in every line of his body. “Ben & Jerry’s?”

“Nope. It’s even better.”

“Something even better than Ben & Jerry’s?” Shiro sits himself up, the expression on his face looks dubious. “Okay, now you get my attention.”

Lance holds out the plate aloofly, and Shiro immediately straightens, hands reaching out. He beams triumphantly at Shiro’s eager reach, the awed gaping of his mouth.

“Is – Is that Hunk’s Key Lime Pie?”

“You bet. Now lay back down.” Lance ushers him, and then climbs atop of his lover once he’s settled in, back to their original position. “I literally begged Hunk for a slice, and _still_ had to bribe him with my Paella. No one can resist my Paella.”

“ _God,_ the mental images.” Shiro groans. “I can taste them at the tip of my tongue.”

“Yea?” Lance hums, tearing apart the crunchy crust and closing his eyes in bliss as he moans around his spoon. “Oh… Jeez… Takashi,”

Shiro licks around his suddenly dry mouth. Something about seeing Lance so lax and pliant, and the memory of the pie stoke a fire deep within him that drives him on. Don’t get him wrong, of course he’s tried the pie. Hunk gave it to him on a cheat day, and no matter how talented Lance is at cooking, Hunk’s lime pie is not a flavor he’s going to forget any time soon. So of course he knows how _good_ it is.

“I’m never going to beat Hunk at baking. It’s a fact.” Lance says, bright-eyed, not at all disappointed at the thought. Shiro can hear him munching down the crust, and knows the moment when the meringue dissolves on his tongue. Lance has always been so expressive.

“That’s okay. We could marry Hunk too and create a perfect family.” Shiro says distractedly, swallowing around nothing.

Lance looks deep into Shiro’s eyes as his lips closed around the spoon and desire trembles within him, his heartbeat increasing at the genuine look on Shiro’s face. “Oh. Y – You want to marry... Me?”

“Uh… I thought it was a given?” Shiro stutters, secretly hoping his face isn’t as red as Lance’s. He coughs into his hand, no doubt color has flooded his face, and takes a huge gulp of air. “I want to stay with you, baby. Forever.”

“E – even when I’m old? And all round and chubby from all your feeding?”

“I was hoping on that, actually.” Shiro grins. “You will always be gorgeous to me, kitten. I know I’m so hyper-conscious about how I look but it’s because of my work but – I’m in love with _all_ of you, Lance. Not just your outrageously long legs or your ocean deep blue eyes or your perky little ass – “

“Okay, I’m less convinced now,” Lance rolls his eyes, but there’s no heat there.

Laughing to himself, Shiro places a hand on Lance’s chest, just underneath the sternum. “I love you mostly because you’re the kindest, warmest, most selfless person I’ve ever met. And you can be a little stubborn sometimes, and pretty competitive, but I love those sides of you too. There is no way in hell I’m not putting a ring on you.”

Like a dam about to break, delight washes over Lance in an instant. He places the spoon on the plate and sets it down on the nightstand, right next to Shiro’s phone before reaching down to tangle their hands together, finger to finger. He absorbs the warmth, the feeling of flesh against his, treasuring the moment of being alive, of being _there_ with Shiro. “You really know how to woo a guy, huh?”

“What can I say? I learned from the best.” Shiro smiles, draws some courage before continuing, “So, will you marry me?”

“I thought it was a given?” Shiro raises a brow. Lance shakes his head, merely in amusement. “Of course I will, silly. Like I’d say no to the people’s magazine sexiest man in 2034.” And he wants Shiro. Always has, simply and deeply, with a desire and urgency that is stupendous.

“Come here.” Shiro picks up the plate, scooping out a piece of the pie and holding the spoon out in front of Lance’s face. “I don’t believe you’re done eating.”

So Lance lets Shiro feeds him, his other hand moving to stroke his cheek slowly, Lance leaning into the touch like a spoiled kitten. He revels in the way Shiro’s eyes grow dark and blown wide as he watch him laps the spoon clean.

“Good?” Shiro asks, voice hoarse.

“Yeah.” Lance says wetly; thick with arousal, whilst looking straight into Shiro, sparking that hot flash that makes him has to adjust his position on the mattress.

Lance stretches when he’s done, pulling his arms up, lean and long like a cat. His tummy is pleasantly full, both from the amazing foods and the butterflies send by Shiro’s enamored gestures. When he shifts he can feel Shiro’s groin pressing stubbornly against his butt, and he retaliates by grinding down harder.

He pulls Shiro closer into an easy embrace, kissing him with renewed fervor, opening his mouth wide to let Shiro lick into his mouth. He moans as Shiro sucks his tongue, hips moving short tiny movements and cock slowly hardening under the ministrations.

“So sweet… baby,” Shiro whispers, lips moving to kiss at Lance’s jaw, under his ear, lapping at his neck. He can taste the leftover flavor in him, sweet and tangy with a hint of cinnamon. Hunk’s pie is indeed, an out of this world experience, but nothing is quiet as tasty as his Lance. Shiro will not trade Lance’s addicting flavor over anything in the whole damn world. “I love you,”

“’m, love you too daddy,” Lance breathes, shuddering through Shiro palming his ass within his shorts. His cock is hard in his boxer shorts; with one hand he takes it out and strokes himself slowly, eyes fluttering shut as he looks down at his – _fiancé_. “So much,”

The scene laid before him is indescribably graceful and erotic. For a second Shiro thinks he does not deserve such thing. When Lance crosses his arms and pulls his shirt off, Shiro moans a little, and is beginning to feel dizzy. He’s aware he has an important photoshoot tomorrow but he doesn’t care; he doesn’t want to sleep. He wants to be inside Lance all the time. He wants Lance’s weight on top of him. Wants Lance to him squeeze him deeper and deeper.

Shiro loses track of time, but by the time he regains his senses they both are already naked, writhing, rubbing against each other slick and hot. Lance grips the sheet next to Shiro’s head in his fists and breathes loudly as he moves his hips in calculated motions. Shiro’s hand rubs up and down his sweat slicked back, while the other is too busy; buried in the addicting heat of Lance’s hole.

Lance is blowing up inside, red and furious, impatient for more, but Shiro always drags this on. He’s too soft, too careful sometimes. It’s driving Lance insane. He needs Shiro – needs his dick to fill up his body until there’s nothing left inside but his dick.

“I need you… please,” Lance whimpers, his movements turn spontaneous, desperate.

Shiro finally looks at him, their eyes both hazy with familiar desire, his roaming fingers dig into the soft flesh of Lance’s hip. “What do you need, baby? You have to tell me clearly,” he says, as slowly as he could, biting into his lower lip to suppress his own fire.

“I need you to fuck me daddy,” Lance whines, mouth parted wide for air. “I need you to fuck me like yesterday,”

“Yea? Can you do it yourself? Line yourself up for me?” he murmurs, crooking the fingers he has inside of Lance. Lance jolts up, a shiver running through his entire being, back arching so deliciously.

His eyes are glassy when he looks at Shiro, pouting, but offers no complain as he braces himself up on his knees, taking Shiro’s cock in his palm. He fondles it a bit in his hand before lining him against his pucker, his thighs shaking slightly. Lance slides down, slowly at first, before gravity takes it toll on him and he slams all the way down, mouth opened in a silent scream. He stays still, dropping his head and Shiro kisses him, distracting him with tiny nibbles and nips.

“You’re doing great baby, so good.” Shiro whispers, one hand a gentle caress against his side. “Always so perfect for me.” He slides his other hand between the cheeks, positioning his finger where he’s connected with Lance, the skin hot and his cock twitching.

Gradually Lance relaxes and his flesh shakes and quivers under the loving touch of Shiro’s hands. His eyes are closed and his lips stretched in a content smile as Shiro massages his thigh, his stomach, his cheeks.

Shiro pulls Lance against him, thinking that they could never be close enough, that if he could keep Lance away from the world he would. He’d keep him warm, keep him safe, keep Lance with him always. “You feel so good.” He touches Lance’s face with his fingertips, sighing, whispering. “Can you move for me?”

It’s not long until Lance finally complied, propping himself onto his elbows on either side of Shiro’s head, swiveling his hips in a way he knows would send his lover right over the edge. Neither of them is in a hurry to finish, so Lance keeps his rhythm slow and easy. Coaxing the sparks of pleasure at a deliberate pace. “Oh God,” he whispers.

Shiro kisses him again, their tongues stroked and laved as the two of them chase their relief. Shiro grows impatient, the sluggish tempo is barely enough for him so he flattens his feet on the mattress and bucks up, plunging deep into Lance. He cries out, his back snapping straight, one hand curled on Shiro’s shoulder.

“ _Oh_ – oh, oh, oh…” Lance chants, and Shiro digs his fingers deeper. Intent on leaving marks.

He drives himself harder into him. Lance is whining with pleasure on top of him and it’s good. It’s always good to please him. To make him lose himself.

“Oh,” Lance breathes. “That’s the best, daddy you’re the best,” his breath coming up short and ragged, body bouncing carelessly that the bed begins creaking. Shiro watches him squeezes his eyes shut and clamps his thighs against his waist, once, twice, muscle clenching tight around him.

“Baby… I’m not gonna last if you do that.” Shiro sighs, and Lance surges forward, kissing his eyelids, then his cheek, and stops when his lips are a mere inch from his own. His hips move faster, in shorter, hastier jerks.

“You can come, daddy, you can fill me up like you always wanted,” He whispers... and that’s where Shiro breaks. He couldn’t hold back any longer. He grunts, plunging deep inside him, deep into that tight clutch, that heat.

Lance moans, hands locked onto Shiro’s hair, pulling, scratching at his scalp, urging him on. A sweet spasm goes through him, and he seems to rise into the air, weightless, floating.

When Shiro stills, catching his breath, Lance is shaking on top of him. “Holy shit… fuck.”

“Language,” Shiro chides tiredly. His eyes flick up after a while, breath slowing, when he notices Lance is still hard, still nestled around him. “Ah. C’mere you,” he sits up, pushing Lance down to lay on his back, reversing their position. Lance visibly shudders as he slips out of him, but Shiro is busy kissing his torso, worshipping his body for all its worth. He then slips down the bed and brushes the length of Lance’s cock with his palm before taking it in his mouth.

Lance sighs, eyes fluttering shut.

Shiro rolls his mouth from base to the tip, all the way keeping a tab on Lance’s expression. He hollows his cheeks and slides all the way down, rejoicing in the way Lance keens, on the way his brows scrunch so hard in bliss. Shiro tastes him, salty in his mouth. His favorite taste.

Lance yanks on his hair to tell him that he’s close, but Shiro wouldn’t budge. He keeps their eyes locked as Lance dissolves into a puddle of lust when he finally comes with a sharp cry, muscles clamping tight before loosening. He sinks down into the mattress, eyes focusing on nothing and Shiro swallows all of him, lapping him clean from his now flaccid cock down to his perineum, tasting a bit of himself.

“Oh. Geez, Shiro… stop.” Lance says, pushing himself up. “I don’t suppose my load is good for your diet,”

“Mm,” Shiro crawls back up, nipping Lance’s lips before smiling from ear to ear. “If there’s one thing I couldn’t stay away from in this lifetime it’s your taste, baby.”

“Ha, sap.” Lance shoves his face away. “Stay away from me, cum breath.”

“But you love me,”

“I do. I love you.” Lance agrees as he peels themselves apart, and maybe limping a bit. “So, bath?”

Shiro rolls on the bed, groaning. “Sounds perfect. God you’re so perfect,”

“It’s just a fucking bath. Now get up, you lazy ass. You have a shoot first thing in the morning.” Lance reminds him, strutting across the room buttnaked and tosses a grin over his shoulder. Shiro finds delight in just admiring the view, engraving it in his mind, licking his lips all the while. The inside of Lance’s thighs is wet. He glistens with it. Shiro tries to think around the fog of lust in his mind.

“Are you up for more? Can I eat you out?”

“ _Takashi_!” Lance cries.

 

**Author's Note:**

> i lvoe writing marriage proposal, sue me.


End file.
